The Rage of Zeus

Years ago, when the riverbank beach was chosen to be the destination of the annual Spring Precession of Hera's Altar Statue to the river a long stretch of Datura stramonium began growing there. As a result of the appearance of the plants they were consecrated and named "Hera's Star" and since have been listed as the most sacred of all plants dedicated to Hera within the Heraian tale.

It is an extremely potent plant. Ingestion of parts of the plant can cause delirium (inability to differentiate reality from fantasy), hallucinations, elevated temperature, flushed skin, fast heart rate,  and agitation (bizarre, and possibly violent behavior).  The changes in mental status can last for days in cases of severe intoxication.

Several seed pods were gathered from the 'wild garden' from the sacred riverbank and allowed to open in their own time at the foot of Hera's Statue. Once fully opened the seeds were allowed to dry and then placed in small glass viles which rest upon the altar until the following spring when they were finally planted and the transference of the plans from the river was complete.

Yesterday I once again visited the riverbank  while out fishing and I was anticipating seeing how the riverbank was growing with all of its many plants and wildflowers. But much to my heartbreak this is what I saw instead:

Every one of Hera's Stars have been killed while all of the plants surrounding them remain. They are dry, brittle, their stems twisted, their still developing seed pods hanging lifeless upon broken stems by a thread. where there was once a long beautiful stretch of dark green and bursting white blossoms there is only desolation. But only here and only of these sacred plants. Nothing else has been damaged or touched.

Of these consecrated plants, the only ones still in existence are those from which I grew from the seed pods I took after they were dedicated to Hera. 17 of them grow today in a protected area and are blessedly producing new seed pods of there own. One of which grows in a terracotta pot inside the altar room itself where it is kept under strict guard and tending. Especially now that its parental stock has been eradicated. One final vile of the sacred seeds also remains inside Hera's Altar Room. There are perhaps 200 or so seeds in the tiny glass vile.In addition 3 full roots of the plants were also taken during the first dedication. The root systems were placed in the altar room and allowed to dry for use in ceremony.

The protection of this dedicated and blessed stock is now a priority with the remaining few under constant guard and given the best of everything so that they might thrive and produce the now precious seeds needed to resurrect them.

In response to the insult to Hera and the destruction of her sacred wild garden along the riverbank it hs been decreed that a new, protected, and private garden dedicated to the Goddess is to be constructed beginning immediately with an estimated completion time of next summer.

The new garden dedicated to Hera will include Hera's Stars from the consecrated seeds along with dozens of other flowers and plants. Seeds from the newly built Gardens of Hera will be taken to the river during the annual Spring Procession and with luck will rebirth the original sacred stretch.

The Coming Storms

A quest had been planned for this coming Sunday ( June 2, 2013) to return to the island where I discovered the 7 Mile Altar Stone and Zeus's Lightning infused Eagle stone. This same island is also where three bald eagles appeared during the journey to place the last of the stone Hera Votives to complete the Ritual of Moira a 22 part, 9 month long ritual meant to release Hera from her bindings by Zeus.

Since these manifestations all came to pass on the same island the island was named "The Island of the Gods" and deemed to be 'holy ground'. I have not been to the island since the encounter with the eagles. Nor had I intended to until I had a vague dream about it which has since infused me with a sense of urgency in getting back there for some reason.

I planned the journey to answer the pull to the island and then a change in the weather came about. 2 days of thunderstorms are expected over the weekend which  prevents the planned journey on Sunday and the rains to come with these storms will increase the flow of the river making the island that much harder to set foot on for a time after the storms themselves pass.

I don't know what lies on that island, what manifestations will present themselves when I return to it, or why the sense of urgency to get there. The appearance of the thunderstorms does delay the journey but it is also a fools errand considering I have been harvesting the essence of such storms and welcome every one of them in order to gain more measures.

Another manifestation has appeared behind the coming storms. The past 2 days have been the hottest of the year thus far. But a cold front coming in behind the line of thunderstorms will drop the temperature and humidity drastically for a few days. The cooling veil of the cold front will make journeying far easier and more comfortable.

So it would seem that I have gained a hindrance from Zeus and a blessing from Hera when it comes to venturing back to the Island. The only thing to do now however, is wait.

The Island of the Gods

The Gift of Poseidon

On May 7, 2013 the journey turned westward along the coast until we came to a place where the God  Poseidon holds great influence. It was there that the long path traveled across the lands found lands end. The next adventure would put me under the sea.

It would also be the first chapter in The Journeybook to be named directly after one of the Gods. Something that might seem odd considering the entire tale involves Hera, Zeus, and myself  and yet it would be Poseidon - a seemingly unrelated God - who would come to change the impact and range of everything.

It's still unclear which side Poseidon favors. Hera and I or his brother Zeus. But the gift Poseidon was to grant might also be seen as him being neutral about the whole thing. The tribute required by Poseidon in order to gain access to the sea realms was costly but the benefits that would come of it would be of equal measure.

This photo (left) is but one of the 75 stills I took while filming this chapter of The Journeybook and this tiny creature packed a powerful punch when it came time to post the photos - instantly becoming the single most popular image taken from the entire series to date.

The release of the photo manifested in a massive boom and is quickly circling around the net in multiple forums, creating a huge increase in the viewer range of the series. A story isn't much of anything unless it is being told.

Attentions are being draw with every step I take. Every day I get closer and closer to taking on the battle that many are already holding their breath to see. The gift of Poseidon would come to be a net cast over tens of thousands of people who would turn their eyes and become witnesses to this very tale.

Many of the landscapes and images captured in this journey are ethereally beautiful, haunting, and enchanting. It has been a relatively calm adventure thus far this season. But that sense of calm wont last. A very long path still lies ahead and that path will not always be beautiful nor will the challenges to come upon it be easy.

Only one quest westward remains before the turn south and the long march begins to the end of Zeus.

 

The Fountain of Neaera

To the north, near the shoreline, there is a winding path that runs along a creek, 'round a lagoon, and into a garden that is warm and bursting with life no matter the season. At the center of this immortal garden rest a fountain belonging to the nymph Neaera. And there, hidden in among the forever blooming flowers, is also an effigy of Pan who is said to frequent the garden himself to gather drops of the enchanted water.

I'm set to travel to this garden tomorrow in order to collect a vile of the same waters and bring it back to the Altar of Hera. The vile of water from the Fountain of Neaera is but one ingredient in a potion that I'll write of later.

The coming adventure is in stark contrast to the rusty, drab landscape seen when obtaining the Hammer of Hephaestus. The forested path and hidden garden are the personification of the enchantments (and dangers) of classical beauty. It is the type of place that inspires lamenting poetry, where travelers begin to dream dreams and see the apparitions of loves that never existed and almost were. The type of place that assaults the heart and lulls the soul with sweet music. Enticing one to lay down and sleep in order to dream until death. An enchanted isle of precious moments, as intoxicating and warm as the arms of a beautiful woman.

Neaera's enchantments over her fountain and the garden that surrounds them manifests as whispering voices on the breeze, hidden, illusive, as if it were the flowers themselves that were quietly singing the gentle lullaby. Makes the mind wonder of hidden mysteries and soft, delicate shadows. Makes the heart aches for hearth and home. But also awakens something much more primal deep within the soul.

Neaera's smile sets fire to the resolve of men. Burning them up from the inside out. They see her reflection in the waters of the fountain. So crisp, so pure. They feel an overwhelming need to run to her, to embrace her, to feel her warm touch. But the pool is unforgiving, unkind, cold. It breaks the apparition with icy fingers and those who have lost their hearts to fair Neaera drown in their sorrows long before they drown in the liquid crystal waters of the fountain where their dreams appeared so clearly.

No fault to fair Neaera for the weaknesses within the hearts of men.

How often are such themes repeated throughout myths and the world? The dangers of beauty and the downfalls brought forth by lust. It was even the downfall (and rise) of Great Pan who's honor and effigy I will also capture on film within these gardens. There is no heavenly light so pure, nectar so sweet, nor poision so deadly as that of a beautiful woman. That kind of undeniable beauty that invokes both passion and hatred, weakens and strengthens, offers hope and can take all hope away. It can make the souls of men immortal, their power otherworldly. And in the very next moment, can scatter them like burning leaves.

Beautiful, intoxicating, fair Neaera who's enchanted fountain is the sum of infinite kisses and the long warm embrace. Kind only to the heart that's true, honorable, worthy. Who's will is stronger than the fires of lust - to be cooled and tempered by the icy spring.

To such she grants her kiss, her blessing, her healing touch. One small measure is all that is required. Drops and nothing more to carry one through for the rest of their days. Ever remembering the dream, forever feeling the glowing warmth from within.

A nymph to be sure. Full of allure and desire, passion and love. A magical creature as is any beautiful form that inspires poetic notions and life itself to burst forth around it simply because life itself feels that same primal pull. Always hungry, always needing more, always desiring to be ever closer to that golden glow. To feel the warmth of the sun reflected off of her skin, to feel the light that radiates only from her eyes, to feel the entire world soften at her slightest touch, to know the unspeakable meaning of love - found only in a kiss.

Dangerous.
Vital.

A long embrace before the long journey to come.

The Eagle - How I Stole Zeus's Lightning Bolt

In the last week of July I decided to go hunting for crystals further up the river than I normally go. The adventure landed me on a bulky island 7 miles south of my home where I discovered several treasures. Large chunks of anthropogenic glass, a large, heavy altar stone which I carried home with me on my back, and perhaps the oddest of all discoveries on that island was this:

A simple stone engraved with the image of an eagle. Completely out of place on that secluded island in the river. The last time I made a discovery that was so irrationally out of place was when I discovered the peacock feather laying in the central fountain of the Gardens of Lisocea - the very same feather and event that set me on my path with Hera.
Neither of us have any love loss for Zeus whose symbol this stone is. And what a great opportunity is was to spin the unlikely event off into a wonderful tale and sympathetically fulfill a goal I had set some time ago to rob Zeus of his lightning bolt.

So, here we are.

The odds of me discovering this stone on that rocky island are astronomically against the odds. As pagans we simply cannot afford to write things off as coincidence. Not when we are dealing with the types of things and creatures we are getting involved with. This stone was stolen and placed on that island against all the logic in the world so that I would find it.

My first instinct when I found it laying there amidst the rocks was the Hera was up to something...again. So, I collected the eagle and brought it back to the altar room where it has rested until today.

I meditated and pondered over this stone for some time while I was waiting to attain another item I was "inclined" to be in need of. And, oddly enough, it did not take more than a couple of days for that item to arrive. Even though I had ordered it from a metaphysical supply store all the way over in England. They just happened to have what I was looking for by way of a supplier in Australia. The item I was after has literally been around the world. And that item is pictured here (right). It is a fulgurite crystal - a silica based crystal formed when lightning strikes silica rich earth and fuses it together to form a type of glass. A literal creation of the joining of heaven and earth, containing the metaphysical power of the lightning bolt.


I presented the fulgurite to Hera and left it on the altar for the past two weeks while waiting for the epiphany of what I was suppose to do next in this odd chain of events.
I wasn't entirely sure until this afternoon. What makes today so freaking special I have no clue. But I was lured into taking the fulgurite that I had attained and combining it with the eagle carved stone that Hera had stolen and placed on the island in the river.

So, I crushed the lighting forged crystal into a glittering powder using a mortar and pestle which caused the crystal to pop and try to shoot shards all over the place.
I had to keep one hand over the mortar while crushing the crystal with the other hand. After a few minutes of crushing and grinding I ended up with a very fine glittery dust.

After crushing the crystal into a fine powder, I took the eagle stone from the altar and I filled in the impression about half way with glue.

Then, I took the powdered lighting and poured it over the center of the stone, allowing the whole pile of sparkling dust to set into the glue itself and fill in the remainder of the indentation that the eagle carving makes.

I gently tapped the edge of the stone to knock off the dust that wasn't absorbed and held in place by the glue. Tapping off the excess allowed for more air and humidity to reach the soaked dust, making it to dry faster and become harder.

I took the excess lightning dust and placed it into a vile to keep on the altar for possible future use.
The eagle stone now infused with the lighting powers of the fulgurite crystal, I detailed the edges of the encrusted engraving and I hand carved a simple inscription on the back side of the stone - "For Hera".
And that is the story of how Hera and I stole the power of Zeus's lightning bolt.

Sacred Spaces - A Peek Inside My Altar Room

(Doorway to the Altar of Hera)

(The Altar Room)

Recently, in the Den, Zech brought up a great topic on the differences between indoor and outdoor sacred spaces. I consider myself extremely lucky to have the best of both in the most serenity filled room of our home and I thought I'd take the opportunity to give everyone a peek at some of the things inside my altar room.

Above is a photo of the double folding glass doors that divide the Altar room from the rest of the house. It is located On the south side (front) of the house, extending the front wall to the edge of the front porch which is to the left of this photo. Just in front of the photo is the front primary flower bed which also holds herbs, three watermelon vines, is backed by a panel of purple morning glories and crowned with 5 lilies. At the back (center) of that flower bed stands a large peacock. On the west side, tall ivy and flower vines cover the west wall and the edging is allowed to grow wild to help support the birds, squirrels, and the groundhog that lives under our neighbor's front steps.

The room itself sets just over 4ft above the ground with a large crawl space under it that is accessible through a hinged panel on the west side of the house. The loose sandy soil that lies beneath the Altar Room is the most likely place that someone in the distant future will uncover hand engraved stones that offer names, dates, and one to two line fragments of story referencing old Gods, magic, and immortality.

The East, South, and West walls of the room are primarily made of panel windows that open in the same manner as a cupboard door with the original latch locks on both the top and bottom of the windows which opens three entire walls up to the outside and offers direct light any time of day (or moonlight by night). And the North wall hosts two 3 foot solid strips of wall before breaking for the wide double doors that lead into the shadowed living room that is decorated in antiques, family photos, and accented with glass tables, crystal, and bronze.

(Greek Treasures)

Philosophers and sages throughout the years have played with attempting to describe metaphysical connections to lands we have never stepped foot on. And I have a few of them, all of which are located in central or western Europe. A remnant of a past life, an illusive dream, unbreakable bonds with the people I have met there, or something mused into my mind and heart from a mundane source...who knows? The point is not in the knowing but in the enchantment. And, for me, these lands are enchanting. The way they once lived, the modern approach to life in general, the poetic notes that changed the world over dozens of times all came from here. And any time I get the chance to get something from this land I tend to jump on it. If it was hand made and imported (or otherwise inspired) from Greece I want it in my Altar Room. Having those pieces of the land itself is somehow important to me and makes the illusive dream of what once was seem more real--physical links in a stronger chain of connection with the homeland of my patron Goddess.

This "chubby Pan" statue was one of the first things inspired by Greek myth that I was gifted.

My mother actually received this statue from my Elementary School Principle who had been following a pagan topic newspaper series I was writing back in 2002-2003. The newspapers came to call the nearly 100 editorial series "The Year of the Witch". It was the first time in local history that pagans seemed to be coming out of the woodwork and "witchcraft" became a common and locally excepted word. The public loved following along with the series in the two local newspapers and sales of those papers went up almost 18% during that run. The series is kept safe now on microfilm in the local library's Heritage Room as well as the county museum.

The statue was a gift from my old 5th grade teacher and Principle for a job well done by way of community involvement and education. She said that I had "turned into the teacher". Which was a nice sentiment. But, my mom being my mom refused to take the statue from her for nothing. So, she gave her 50 cents for it. Today, this same statue retails for about $100.00 unpainted.

This cup is one of two 24k gold trimmed, hand made cups that rest on the Altar itself. They are the very first actual imported items I ever received.

I came across these at a yard sale and bought them both for $2. After a meticulous cleaning and cleansing the cups became side pieces for my Altar over the years.

They have thick bottoms that make them heavier than they appear and are numbered. On the bottom of the cup is a decorative bordered "S" and they read "Hand made in Greece in 24k Gold". I have number 8 and 14 in the collection along with a matching small vase that is simply numbered 124.

The only time that I ever actually use these cups is for extremely special and rare occasions and the only thing that ever goes into them is sweet dark red wine (which is rare in and of itself). One cup goes to me and the other to Hera. Her's will rest on the Altar for a bit before being poured out into the earth in offering.

This is Hera's "Tiny Treasures" Offering Plate. The plate is milk glass, trimmed in gold, and has a wheat pattern gold ring surrounding its center.

Wheat was referred to as "The flower of Hera" in the late Bronze Age, for some reason that eludes me because I don't consider it a flower at all. But who am I to argue with the ancients?

The milk glass itself is sympathetic to the myths of Hera nursing mortals and demi-gods such as Hercules and Achilles to imbue them with her power, or as in the case of Achilles, her rage, which is one of the blessings that made him such a great warrior.

On this plate is where I place items such as river stones, polished glass from the beach, bits of pear or willow bark, flowers, or any other tiny treasure I might come across on one of my many adventures.  It is also where I place the two necklaces I never leave the house without every night before going to bed. And always present at the center of the plate is the red box that holds "The Eye of Hera" itself from many of the Denian Myths that you can find in the Den Archive.

"The Wings of Icarus" -- A gift from my beloved Braegan, are proudly displayed on the east side of the north wall of the Altar Room. Every "Angel" should have wings right?

In the Myths, Icarus was the one who was linked (along with his father) in creating the Labyrinth of the Minotaur on Crete. Both were imprisoned by King Minos and Icarus's father fashioned two pair of wings to help them escape.

But, despite being warned, Icarus flew too close to the sun and it melted the wax holding the wings together. Thus, he plummeted to his death. His wings are a reminder of the hidden dangers of being over-ambitious.

On the opposite wall of the Wings of Icarus rests this newly included hand painted copper plate. Another actual imported item that was made in the 1950s.

We found this item just this past weekend while we were out on one of our adventures. I thought it was proper to have a hand made Greek import displaying a Greek Temple in the Altar room. Can't get much closer than that! And the common decorative border on this plate also matches the border on the gold cups and vase that rest on the other side of the room.

This Greek style plaster column rests on the left side of the Altar itself and is a display of simplicity.

For some reason the colors: purple, white, pink, yellow, blue, and gold have always been present somewhere in my dealing with Hera.

The peacock feather accent is common throughout the room with a total of 7 peacock feathers and one statuette present near or on the most sacred items.Two rest on the Altar itself which I cannot display here.

The notion behind the peacock feather relates to the Myth that Hera placed the eyes of Argus (Hera's hundred eyed giant) into the feathers of one of her favorite birds.

Argus was Hera's "spy" and whatever he looked upon she could also see. So, by placing peacock feathers in the Altar Room (or anywhere else in your home) you are pretty much offering the Goddess a free peek at anything that goes on there. Here, Hera's eyes are always watchful.

This is Charlotte, my 11 year old rose haired tarantula in her newly designed "Sisters of Fate" inspired tank.

Charlotte is the spider priestess of the Sisters, spinning, measuring, and cutting her silken threads of time and fate over green glass decorative stones, a small Greek vase, the "Sphere of Time" (which was my very first scrying glass) my gold "Time Teaser" necklace that is inlaid with crystals surrounding a clock face, a golden ring that I discovered on one of my adventures, and another necklace that was a gift from one of my own three sisters.

This many eyed, stinging haired, nearly one inch fanged guardian of the time treasures is a constant muse and aid in many of the things I write, spin, and plan in both the Denian Universe and life in general. A reminder that the past sometimes weaves the future.

These are just some of the many items in my Altar Room dedicated to Hera and it is added to, cleaned, cleansed, redecorated, and visited on a daily basis for the burning of candles and incense. The room is also home to three potted plants, has a scattering of sea salt and white sage in and on nearly everything, has a place for putting coins to be tossed into the river on certain occasions for certain things, an antique trunk where I keep all of my hand written journals and favorite books, a chest that holds rare photos of my son and daughter, and so many other hidden wonders that it would be nearly impossible to put into just one blog.

All of this in the love and service of the ever present and rather over-protective Queen of the Gods who has guided and empowered me so that I am able to do all the things that I do. The more I learn about her the more I learn about myself. This Altar Room is the sacred testament of an epic life, a legendary journey, and an ancient Goddess walking new streets.

Today, just about everything that I am able to cook up for the Denian Universe is mused or conceived of in this one room. Both Braegan and I are extremely protective and territorial of this room. Visitors have access to every other room in the house but this room is a different matter entirely. We have only allowed family members in here twice and they are about as far as you can get from being pagan. But even they describe the smell and feel of the room to that of a church. And coming from non-pagan people that is about as good as a compliment as you can get and  sign that you must being doing something right. No matter what the path or what one believes there is something spiritual here. And it has been nothing but a blessing that permeates every aspect of our lives.

Blessed are those in the eyes of the Gods -- Pitied are those that need them.

Into the Wild

The impact of the Panhellenic mind set and Homeric reconstructions of the Iliad has nearly completely crystallized the modern view of Hera into a figure the ancients never really considered. Her life was far different from that of the modern interpretation which is often based in Homeric poem rather than actual thought and practice.

The Panhellenic social mind set was based in subordination that needed a general metaphoric patriarchy which a retheologized Olympic family could offer. In doing so, the Panhellenic myths were the first step in setting Zeus upon his throne and, in turn, the male as the head of household.

Before Hera was retheologized near Argeia to better fit into her new mythic position we can look to the temples in both Samos and the Delian Heraion where admittedly very little of the mythological lore still exists, however many of the votive offerings to the temples do. Of which are figures of wild animals including: sphinxes, lions, griffins, birds and others that stand in contrast to something befitting the newly cased Olympian Queen and lends more to her original role as a nature goddess and mistress of wild animals as she was in the Mycenaean past.

Athena would later be gifted another of Hera’s original roles as the goddess of the shield and citadel. Most likely a new Athenian sphere of influence due to her Iliadic functioning as Hera’s agent and Hera’s battle Goddess in Argolic myth that transferred over into the Panhellenic myths. Since Athena was the daughter of Zeus the new position subordinated the sphere of influence over war to her father, increasing his own influence and supporting the masculine drive of mortal society.

However the reconstructions may have developed the Mycenaean view of Hera still persisted in many areas and held her as the goddess of untamed animal life, war, and the house, as well as a Spring Goddess of general fertility still worshiped at her tree and bathing in the river, who had the power of life and death over “heroes” - those who won fame from Hera.

Still, as time went on and people began to sway to the new theology, Hera began to lose her power bit by bit. The time when this really began to take hold in Greek consciousness is still shrouded in mystery. Slowly Hera’s connection with the natural world, her sovereignty over life, her influence in war, and her association with tree and river cults began to diminish as she was forced into the suppressive role as a goddess of domestication, subservient to her would be husband. A mortal theme that would last for thousands of years in western culture and is sadly still purported by the majority of writings regarding Hera today.

All of the evidence suggest that Hera was once the dominant Goddess of the pre-Olympian age. Her Hekatombaia that was celebrated in the Archaic Heraion was a New Year’s festival that presented her as the Goddess of Spring and new life, mistress of wild animals, and tamer of the untamed come winter and death; offering context to her non-Homeric description: teleia - “fulfiller”. There is no real evidence beyond the Iliad that suggest Hera as the subservient wife of Zeus or that the two figures had any connection what so ever within the mortal social sphere or in worship.

The sin of the Homeric patriarchy is that it has empowered one sex at the expense of the other. In order for the male to take the role of dominance all of the feminine influences had to be suppressed. Which, above all others, included Hera because she was the dominate feminine with an unprecedented power over her male counterpart in the Pre-Panhellenic world.

Hera was Queen long before Zeus was King. That fact could not be allowed to hold if men were to take full control over hearth and home. It’s a theme that has lasted to the modern age. Even the theology of Christianity has dominant male themes and “tames” the power of women.

Yet, in spite of the mortal habit of reflecting their social whims upon the Gods as a way of justifying their animalistic behavior, Hera remains untamed. She did not yield to servitude or suppression even in the Iliadic myths or in the light of her most often portrayed personification.

In the eyes of mortals Hera may not be commonly viewed as the seasonal mistress of wild animals, the bringer of new life, a goddess of the shield (war) and citadel, or the protector of the home. But the truth will forever outshine their confabulations and misrepresentations that serve only their petty whims. Whims that are easily cast aside once one travels a little deeper into the murk.

Feast of Dreams

“Philotheros [lover of the wild], I desire to feast, not in the city, but at Hera’s shrine, enjoying gusts of the west wind. A linen pallet on the ground beneath my body is enough for me—a bed close by a native tree (promalos), and a willow (lugos), ancient wreathing (stephos) of the Carians. Let wine be brought and the Muses’ charming lyre, that, drinking to our hearts content, we may sing of glorious Hera, mistress of our isle.” (Nikainetos quoted by Athenaeus 15.637b-c Kaibel 1890)

Nikainetos was a poet who lived in Samos in the 3rd century B.C., around 290 B.C. and is often included as one an Abderite, a student of a pre-Socratic school of thought that was founded between 440-430 B.C. The fragment above helps to illuminate a more fragrant view of the sociology surrounding the Temple of Hera and how is was likely a common practice to lounge about the Temple feasting in merriment until lulled off to sleep on a convenient pallet, bed, or couch there on the grounds, to dream dreams and have divine visions of the Mother Goddess while resting there.

One can’t imagine that the noise, smells, and hustle and bustle of city life offered much by way of peace and divine dreaming. Before all Hera was a nature Goddess with rituals founded for river gods and votives proper for a deity of both protection and fertility, the latter extending to crops and the renewal of life from death as a Goddess of Spring. She was also held as a mistress of wild animals that included griffins, oxen, horses, lions, and several birds. And in as many as twenty separate cult houses, throughout time, there is solid evidence that Hera was the Goddess of hearth and home. We may also allude to Hera’s Rite of Spring and the conclusion of the cycle in the autumn with The Harvest of Hera; a seasonal pattern that illustrates the notion that the giver of life (The Earth Goddess) also takes life away. The same notion can be seen in the mythos of “hero”, (Hero/Hera – Those glorified through Hera) who almost always died a young death.

Hera was the most influential and honored at one point in time while Zeus, who many attempt to place above her, can be viewed as a paranoid degenerate whose life and actions only served to back that point of view. His mortal gifted esteem and position was granted primarily by the sexist feminine suppression and social upheaval of Homeric times. Where Zeus was all force and chaos Hera was nurture and serenity; attributes typical of a mother goddess. And so, it is to the Temple of Hera where one ventures to find peace and simplified comforts of life.

It does not take a stretch of the imagination to see a clear vision of what a common Temple visit would have been like. A visit based in relaxation and merriment honoring Hera until one is mused to curl up on a soft pallet and be lulled into dreamful sleep in the arms of the Goddess herself with a belly full of food and drink that only serves to allow Sleep to visit more easily and dreams to become much more vivid.

How many visions came to the minds of mortals in such a manner? How many hidden, subtle blessings to the minds of men; to muse and encourage a much more rustic existence than anything we may experience in the modern world, still with all of its grit and grime. It’s so easy to slip between silken threads to touch the divine, so easy to find the sense of peace to the depths of the soul…and so easy to deny it all in the here and now. Perhaps we have forgotten what is important.

So, we come to the Temple of Hera to feast, sleep, and dream on a common day with common foods. What we might find there are things such as: arugulas, cucumbers, artichokes, cress, fennel, radishes, squash, grapes, olives, figs, pears, plums, apples, pomegranates, peas, lentils, sardines, an array of sea foods, goat, goose, boar, chicken, deer, rabbit, lamb, a variety of breads, and the fragrant bergamot oranges that, today, the essence of which is commonly used in the making of Earl Grey tea. All such foods may be seasons with things such as pepper, dill, salt, thyme, saffron, coriander, mint, and oregano.

Bread was a staple in ancient times with the inclusion of a small amount of vegetables, olives, and wine incorporated into everyday consumption. All of which was eaten by hand rather than with utensils. Raw fruits and olives were common as side dishes with any regular meal and often that meal was not a “fancy feast” but a feast of simplicity. It was perhaps an unrealized effort to take something really good and not screw it up.

All of this there in the cool shades of Hera’s Temple, a wide open space beyond highlighted by pools of golden sunlight. The soft caress of the west wind mixing and mingling the scents of the foods and the Temple together into a new form of ether unique only to that moment. A ghostly, fluid, lubricant that allowed one to slip from mortal form and into something more, however briefly. A simplistic feast set in the divine, an afternoon nap in the lap of a Goddess…a slow, steady, nurturing, and stress free life full of magic, mystery, and wonder known only to those who, with bellies full, dream.

How quickly mortals forget.

Map of the Pagan Afterlife

I've always had a strange fascination with antique maps, the older
the better. And if you go back far enough into history you will find
maps of a world that look so unlike the one we know today that, for a
moment, you think it is a work of fiction. But man has always drawn
the world the way they see it. From the planet we live on to the
lands of our dreams where maps of fictional lands often invoke more
mystery and wonder-lust in us than the reality based ones do.
My love for such maps led me to crafting a few of my own. After a bit
of kitchen witchery I made up a brew that would stain and stiffen
normal paper and make it look like the antique pictures I always
enjoyed glaring at. The stain is easy to infuse with different herbs
and oils to give it texture, durability, and even scent.
These simple pieces of art are decorative and enchanting and if the
brew is right you don't even have to draw the images yourself. A good
printer and good printing paper will set the moder day cyber-witch on
a path that will rip anything out of the realm of fiction and make it
real, with a pagan look and feel that is one of a kind.
But one map I have never come across or created myself was a map of
the Pagan Afterlife.
The vision is of a single land, broken on the east cost in a series
of coves and small islands where towering white statues of many
different gods loom like sentinels looking out to the realm beyond
the sea, into the mist of eternity and to the mortal world. These
statues are so massive that anything mankind has ever created pales
in comparison to their sheer size and mass. At the base of each
colossus is a temple, a home away from home for the patron Deity
symbolized above.
Just off the coast line to the east begins the Elysian Fields. A vast
open plain glittered with wildflowers and hidden pathways through the
briers. The Elysian Fields run in a narrow column from north to south
and are cracked in a jagged line just off of the center by the
rippling river Acheron. The Elysian Fields are peppered with small
villages with dome-like houses that are dark brown in contrast to the
colors of summer and the tans of autumn. Each village is often a
necessary stop to all travelers who are wondering through the Fields
because of the long distance from one end to the other. But the more
experienced traveler has discovered that in this world there are
faster ways to travel than walking. It's just not as scenic.
On the far north of the Elysian Fields is a small shadowy land known
as Tartarus. Tartarus, unlike the plains of the Elysian Fields is
hilly and littered with large grey stones. A few tangled trees
struggle to survive in the rocky soil that is covered year round by
tannish grasses. It is a land locked in a season of fall. Only three
villages are in this land and none of the locals are very friendly to
strangers. They live in rough stone houses and entertain themselves
with difficult games made up to challenge ones soul. The rudeness to
wanderers is sparked by the entertainment value in getting someone
who has no idea what they are doing to play the games. One of which
is recovering certain items from the volcanic island that lies to the
north.
Separated from the rest of the land by the River Styx, running east
and west just below the norther border is the black smokey island of
Hades.
Hades might look bleak but it is packed full of otherworldly
treasures that are extremely valuable in this land. There are weapons
and armor here that can kill the soul and some that can even kill a
God or protect the wearer from such harm. Death in the Afterlife
means rebirth in the mortal realm, or worse, vanishing into
nothingness. The problem is attaining one of the artifacts and
actually keeping it on your way back out. Anyone who has ever ran
this gauntlet might tell you it's not worth the price, even if you
are already dead.
Bordering both Hades and the Elysian Fields and running the breadth
of this realm from north to south is the grey and sharp Valhalla
Mountain Rage. The mountain paths are tangled and twisted and most
who wonder into them never come out again. Not because of some hidden
danger but because it is an extremely easy place to get lost in.
There is no guides to aid you along the way. Here you best chance of
getting any help at all is to find the only building in the entire
land, The Great Hall. The problem is that no one knows for sure where
it will be from one day to the next. The only clue that was ever
given was "Look Up". The Hall rests on the mountain top for one day
and one day only before it vanishes only to reappear on the top of
another. Of course, the residents of the Great Hall are all warriors.
To them it seems fit to set a challenge for those who wish to enter
both in life and beyond.
However there is said to be a path leading through the heart of the
mountains and if you stay true to it it will lead you to the "silver
city". It is the only place still within the mountain rage that is
not part Valhalla itself. The city is called Tir na nOg and it is
rumored to be centered by a tower the reaches far above the highest
mountain peak of Valhalla. Which doesn't aid in finding it because at
that height the top of the tower is always in the clouds.
Tir na nOg is a huge city that rivals any on earth. The residents are
aristocratic types who are welcome enough to those who venture here
but have the worst habit of wanting to "enlighten" both traveler and
each other with lectures that go on for eternity. Because of this
habit it has never been considered rude do get up in the middle of a
conversation and simply leave. In fact, it is seen as being wise
because even the dead don't want to spend eternity in school.
Some distance due south is the sister city of Tir na nOg. The easiest
way to get there is by following the River Acheron which winds its
way through the mountains into the foothills to the south and runs
right down the middles of the smaller city of Tir na mBeo. This river
is known for its silver sheen that by moonlight makes it look like
pure mercury. There is a fiery that makes a run from Tir na nOg to
Tir na mBeo three times a day.
Tir na Beo, unlike its sister city is much calmer and easier to get
around in. There are no huge buildings or twisting streets here and
the locals are warm and inviting. The southern end of the city is
lines by the snake river Lethe. No one knows why they call it a river
really. It's more of a creek that you could nearly jump across. But
it is a good setting for some nice arch bridges.
the Lethe runs west until it meets the much larger tributary of the
Phlegethon River. Where the two meet is the ruins of Sheol which lies
in the foothills. A once beautiful village Sheol was home to many but
was lost some time ago in a great storm that came in off the coast.
Rumor has it that it was punishment after a resident stole a gem from
one of the coastal temples. All that remains here now is a jagged
pile of rock and wall faces. After the village was destroyed the
residents moved into vast underground caverns known as Underworld.
But those caverns are home to more than just spirits. Nearly every
nightmare mortals have ever had came from this place. But it is said
that there is a great gothic city beneath the ruins of Sheol were the
torches burn brightly all the time and a peace can be found there
unlike any other.
Just beyond the foothills of the Valhalla Mountains in the evergreen
forest lies the two tiny villages of Jekinnah and Gehenna. Both
villages coexist and in the past have came to depend on each other.
Together they make up the afterlife's largest marketplace and they
have found a reason for a festival for everyday. This is the party
place where your every whim and delight can be found, cooked, or
crafted. Merchants from all over the mortal world come here to
entertain their earthly habits and passions.
If you happen to travel just beyond the forest to the east you will
come to a ridge overlooking the only place in the entire afterlife
that might be considered a capital. The great city of Asgard.
Asgard sets on the southern border and is so massive that it could be
interpreted as the entirety of the afterlife. From the ridge it spans
the entire horizon and glitters like red diamonds at sunset. Asgard
is the hub of the land. Everyone has been there and everyone has met
there to get news from everywhere else. It's gossip central with all
the food and wine to keep the gossip fueled forever, whether its true
or not.
Asgard is so massive that it engulfs the entire River of Cocytus.
From start to finish the river is within the city limits, running
north to south in an almost perfect straight line.
Beyond the city is the playful Summerland that sets on the southern
end of the Elysian Fields. The Summerland doesn't have any towns or
villages. It's residents seem to prefer nature and nature alone.
Spotted with small forests and wide open meadows the Summerland is
home to some of the most emotional but loving spirits in the realm.
If you have a sweet tooth after death this place can cure you of it.
The Summerland is the latest to be founded, if founding is what you
call it. It looks a lot like a water painting where all of the colors
are melting together in a frightful rainbow display that makes your
eyes water. But the frolicking locals love it. Mind your tongue when
visiting this place. Their a bit confused here and just about
everything you say is wrong or will grant you bad karma. Then some
spirit dressed as a fairy will inform you time and again that you
will be sent back to the mortal realm as a goat or something. No one
really takes them seriously of course. They hardly ever take each
other seriously. They just play and dance on whims and dreams.
Gifting hope and innocents to the mortal realm and a lot of color to
all the others.
And now we are back the the Elysian Fields. Not a bad journey through
the afterlife I suppose. Now all I have to do is actually draw the
map and stain it with the magical brew of imagination.

The Mask and Mirror

While it is always important to take note of the individual identities and
backgrounds of the Gods and Goddesses that pagans worship, follow, or interact
with on different levels, one trait of the Gods that will always remain
universal and transcend all boundaries is how and when they choose to manifest
to the minds and hearts of the mortals who have gained an audience with them.

Personal interactions with the Gods tends to boarder on the taboo. These are
tales and perspectives that should be shared but are often held in secret for a
couple of primary reasons. The first is that such occurrences are often
considered to be personal and, in a way, sacred to the individual. From this
perspective the common defense to not telling the tale is that it's personal and
no one else's business. And in a world culture of possessiveness even words are
given an unrealistic weight in gold. Just ask anyone who wants to copyright and
demand credit for every single word that comes out of their little mouths. (On
this note, anything I do or say is probably more valuable to my readers than it
is to me. The more readers who gain from my words the more value the message
has. So pass it on. I adore seeing others gaining from me with no follow up
effort given to pushing the words forward. It means I did something great that
was worth someone else noting.)

A second primary, and more disturbing reason, is that interactions with the Gods
invokes a kind of fear response in those it actually happens to. Especially if
the occurrence are vivid and not simply an emotional response to a ritual,
spell, or prayer for intervening. That trend was programmed into us by the
cold, hard, and rough perspective of reality gifted to us by the scientific age.
And it's one of the great curses self imposed upon mankind. Often when we are
young and keep getting drilled about growing up. With lines that include phrases
like: ghosts and monsters aren't real. It was just your imagination, a bad
dream, get your head out of the clouds…." the list goes on forever. And what is
the one thing that us pagans value nearly more than anything else? The gift of
sight we had as children before we had that gift taken from us by the world we
live in.

Probably one of the greatest powers that deities have is the ability to manifest
to any mortal, pagan or not, in any manner they see fit to do so at the time.
So, any account of interactions and manifestations recalled by any individual
fails in shocking me or giving me the point of view that this person might just
be crazy. Which is the response they fear the most. They wont recount the tale
simply because they are afraid of what others will say or think. Oddly enough,
the opinions of others rules over many of our actions. Meaning that they are
somewhat in control of what we say and do. Even though we speak venomously about
those we catch trying to do it.

Because of the rarity of the accounts in question they are always valuable to
those they are gifted to. And it's important to respect each tale as it is told
and not try to interpret it or disrespect it in any way. Those who have these
experiences hold some value to the Gods and Goddesses that manifest to them. By
insulting the tale you insult the God or Goddess in question. And none of them
are limited to being kind and loving to any mortal.

Manifestations are an important lesson to learn. Not because they happen but
because of how and why they happen. Those who come to the call of the Gods often
enough get the favor returned. That means that if you run into a person who has
favor with a deity you not only face that person if you have reason to pick a
fight with them. You face the wrath of the God or Goddess who they have favor
with. That is not related to the dogma of karma in any way. That is simply the
equivalent of a pissed off parent or guardian.

While some Gods and Goddesses tend to remain indifferent there are others who
quite literally fall in love with the mortals who worship them. And they will
protect them in a more intense manner than any mortal lover ever could. At the
same point in time, many of the Gods and Goddesses have a strong and intense
hitch for jealousy. There is a fine line between love and hate. Especially when
it comes to the Gods.

In learning the true nature of the Gods we interact with we are better able to
serve and cope with their influences on our daily lives and the lives of those
around us. In this, we must also side note the effects of interacting with
creatures beyond the realm of the Gods. Dragons, fairies, fauns, and all manner
of what the world views as "mythical creatures" often enough appear to us
somewhere along our path. They're part of our world that is no different than
the world of man. Different races, different cultures, different attitudes and
ways of etiquette in dealings with them.

If a God or Goddess chooses to manifest to a mortal there is almost always a
hidden agenda. This could simply be a question of a favor for a favor or they
want you to do something for them just because they want you to do something for
them. And they will use the art of manifestation to aid them in getting the end
of the deal that they want.

All Gods and Goddesses have "mortal world" symbols, animals, totems, and so on
that are considered sacred to them. The reason for such things is one: they do
have a love for the physical world, and two: it offers mortals tangible evidence
for their existence. Something that is quite valuable in any belief system,
especially this day in age. It also gives you tangible worshiping tools for all
those sympathetic magics and rituals.

Deities can mask themselves and appear as anything or anyone they wish. There is
even a wealth of accounts and tales where Gods appeared in the form of a lover,
wife or husband, for the sole purpose of having sex with a mortal. Zeus is
probably the most noted of these exploiters. Beyond deity you can view accounts
of fauns and other creatures who have done the same. These attributes help
mortals to explain our more primal instincts and urges that we most often deny
or keep to ourselves. We note that we have such experiences and we counter
manifest those experiences in the extreme to myths and tales because it helps to
justify the natural tendency to have them. It dulls our sense of shame and guilt
that is pre-set into our psychology by whatever culture or time we happen to
live in. When in Rome…

The mask of the Gods is unlimited. They will appear in whatever form suits their
needs. And they do it to exploit all the darker corners of your mind and soul
that you don't like to visit too often. They do it to let you know that you're
mortal and subject to mortal fears. Granting them instant power and a measure of
respect that they don't necessarily have to earn.

The other technique is to mirror some part of your being. Something personal to
you that you can relate to on an instinctual level. Something sacred to you or
to your "expanded" memory (meaning: transcendent life experiences). They will
mirror something that your soul is more comfortable with. It helps to keep your
mortal mind from becoming overwhelmed. Your not much good to them if you fall
into the abyss of insanity. And in this form of manifestation, if we note the
details, we may often discover aspects of our lives that we may have not
realized in the past. The trick is to realize that they can see all of you. Even
the parts that you can't or refuse to see yourself. And the mere act of
manifesting in such a way is a lesson all in its own.

One of the most potent aspects of manifestation is that they can be
overwhelmingly beautiful. The Gods and Goddesses in particular can be so
seductive that they destroy all boundaries of reason. We simply fall obsessively
in love with them. And in doing so, they claim our hearts and can manipulate our
actions beyond the point of view or perspectives of any other God and mortal
alike. We can find ourselves in their service just because they are beautiful
and have seduced us into something with the same consistency of half set jello.
An exploited weakness in being mortal that can be the single greatest experience
of our lives. Nothing can ever compare to a love spell woven by a God.

Masks and mirrors. All tools and techniques used to interact with mortals on a
mortal level. Just as tangible and creditable as a mountain or a river or the
fact that you have bills to pay. Part of pagan life and the mystical experiences
that will remain beyond the realms of interpretation or expression in any true
form. Something that has to be experienced to be understood. The tales we are
willing to tell are pure gold. To the rest of the world, they don't have to be
understood. Just known to happen. For good reason or no reason what so ever.

Ritual of the Shield Covered Warrior

The Shielded Warrior of Hera is a mythical continuation of a fragment written by Asios of Samos and recounted by Duris. Within the fragment Duris describes the original priestesses of Hera and ends the fragment with the phrase “a shield-covered warrior” which almost appears out of context. Yet, it is the latter from which the modern ritual and tale is to proceed.

The first Hera at Denia Shielded Warrior Dedication Ritual incorporated a 372 year old astrological anomaly of the Winter Solstice coinciding with a full lunar eclipse on December 21, 2010. The event was described as a “return from double darkness” and made the ritual itself unique because astrologically it cannot be replicated for nearly 100 years.  

While the complete ritual itself is veiled in mystery a few of the details can be gleaned including the sympathetic ritual of the transformation of Kholos from Hera to the Shielded Warrior through the incorporation of a potion referred to as “The Blood of Hera”, which is a step beyond ancient concepts of Hera infusing a warrior with power from her breasts.

The base elements of the Blood of Hera potion was a potent brew consisting of: Water, sea salt, red wine vinegar, virgin Greek olive oil, white and green tea, apple, rosehip, chicory root, cinnamon, licorice root, ginger, orange peel, blackberry, currant, pomegranate juice, blueberry, raspberry, and Chianti.

The potion was mixed in “The Cup of Mneme”, a Denian artifact that was hand-made in Greece that is trimmed in gold. This votive offering dedicated to the Goddess was set upon the Alter of Hera during the first luminous phase of the full moon prior to the ritual bathing/cleansing ceremony. The potion was sanctified by dibbing “The Eye of Hera” crystal into the cup; relative to a more common practice of dibbing an athame into a goblet of wine. This was a form of duel sanctification. One for the Blood and one for the blood stained, teardrop crystal.

An external cleansing was incorporated with a smudging of incents and white sage fallowing the bath and an internal cleansing incorporated a feast of foods, many of which were Greek imported items such as a special type of olives; of which, the pits were places aside to be used during the ritual proper. 54 of those seeds were offered back to the earth at the climax of the eclipse and 9 others were place into a glass vial to remain within the alter room  next to an identical vial that holds a measure of the original Blood of Hera potion and thus a measure of the ritualistically invoked Kholos.

In the few moments at the climax of the eclipse the seeds were offered to the earth and thus back to an original sphere of influence regarding Hera as an earth/nature goddess and mistress of wild animals and the entirety of the Blood in the Cup of Mneme was drank; physically infusing the warrior with the Blood of Hera and the invoked Kholos; sympathetically linking the two, Goddess and man, through a mingling of blood as well as the metaphysical link that is also represented by the drinking of the Blood in “closing the deal” aspect of the ritual. The latter being both simplistic and final: an honor for an honor. The Shielded Warrior serves Hera and in turn Hera both protects and empowers the warrior. Thus it becomes a symbiotic relationship with intimate metaphysical as well as physical aspects between the divine and mortal realms and the new medium of an in-between as is describable of the Shielded Warrior himself.

Effigy

There is more to spirituality than just following a path or swearing
to unexplainable or unverifiable events. In most cases spirituality
cannot be proven or disputed with hard evidence. The bulk of the
topic is based largely on faith and the word of the practitioner. But
there are a handful of universal phenomena that seem to transcend the
boundaries that lie between one faith and another. One of those
phenomena happens to be the spiritual energies that seem to flow
naturally from religious symbols, icons, pictures, and statues.
From ancient temples to modern churches mortals have sanctified the
very ground of these monolithic structures with prayers, spells, and
symbolism. The latter often being the central focal point that almost
immediately draws one eyes to the alter or other such place that acts
as the heart of the structure.
Artists have labored for hours and in many cases years to offer their
own unique interpretations of the central figures and symbols of a
particular faith. Sometimes laboring so intently on their work that
it is not out of context to say that part of their very life force is
driven into their masterpiece, be it by pen or chisel, forever
immortalizing their spirit and their passion. Such works help us to
visualize and illustrate what cannot be put into simple words. For as
vast as human language is there are some things we still cannot
explain or express. Sometimes these things simply have to be felt for
us and anyone else to know they actually do exist and many of those
feelings have yet to be named.
However, it is not only shrines, temples, and churches that seem to
be sanctified and enchanted by effigies and symbols of our various
faiths but also our own homes. It would stand to reason that the
simple act of placing an effigy of our Gods, even in the darkest
corner of our home, is an open invitation for their influences,
power, and even direct visitation. An invitation that does not often
go unanswered.
Such practices can be traced all the way back to ancient cave
paintings that remain to this day in southern France. It is clear
that even in the most ancient times of history in art forms, the
power of effigies and symbolism has forever been a wellspring of both
spiritual and metaphysical energy. Often granting us the more common
feelings of solitude, power, and most importantly of all, safety. It
also stands as a reminder to us that our faith remains in our hearts
even if clouds in our minds cover it. Which is one of the many facets
to faith that makes it such as powerful force. In fact, it is a force
that is so intense that there are occasions when the Gods we invite
into our home are not the only visitors we receive.
The energies that flow forth from icons and effigies are not often
signature energies from a particular Deity. Contrary to popular
belief just because a mortal chooses a God does not mean that the God
also chooses the mortal. Which would help to explain why we are
attracted to a particular Deity or pantheon. Our spirits can be
pulled towards the Deity or pantheon we have a certain history or
even kinship with more so than the simple and often egotistical
interests of our minds. We might lean towards one Deity for a time
and then move on to another who has a more defined lesson or interest
in mind for us.
Effigy energies seem to be more neutral in nature and much less
intense than a flow of energy that might come more directly from a
particular Deity. And anyone who has ever had such a direct influx of
energy or influence from a Deity himself or herself will testify to
the intensity of the experience and often tell you that the feeling
is not at all the same. However, we can also say that energy gifted
to the Gods is the same energy received by the Gods. In simple terms,
if you smile and nod at them they will smile and nod back. That
doesn't mean they will hang out for long after. Yet the energy that
flows forth from their effigy seems constant.
Personally I don't believe that pantheons or even the names of the
Gods and Goddesses should be mixed or are in anyway interchangeable.
To do so is both an insult to all the Deities that might be involved
and a common practice of stupidity. Certain Deities have certain
spheres of influence and just because one people have a certain Deity
for the same sphere of influence as another doesn't not mean that the
Deities that rule that sphere are the same entity.
For instance the Roman Goddess Diana is by no means the same as the
Greek Goddess Artemis, although the two are all to often combined or
seen as counterparts, which is an extreme spiritual and historical
error that has been repeated countless times by subscribers, who
choose to believe everything they're told, rather than researchers
who actually search for some accuracy. It has sadly become the norm;
especially with the new age reconstructionist who seem to lean toward
the consolidation of Deity for whatever unfathomable reasons. So when
putting this all into practice it is important to remember exactly
which Deity you are dealing with and not insult one by haphazardly
superimposing another.
In essence on can create a temple-like environment within their home
by integrating a few things into the setting. You don't need to set
up a large alter or even a central location that attracts the eyes of
visitors. Although doing so is both unique and easy enough to pull
off. The air about a home, like that of any place else, gets its
primary feel by the central theme. Structure wise, a church is a
church because of its decor more than it is anything else and the
home is not so different. A picture or even a statue of a Deity can
easily be integrated into the setting of your home in less
conspicuous ways than on some alter. Chances are, if one was to have
a colorful picture of a particular Deity hanging on the wall visitors
would enjoy it before they even knew what it was for sure. Which,
again, is more proof that the phenomenon has some basis in truth.
Any home that has been cleansed and decorated in such a way will
rapidly begin to take on a different feel about it. By opening these
small doors for energy to flow into the home and keeping everything
just a bit tidy for your coming visitors you can make your modern day
home take on a resembling feel to an age old temple.
The only side effect to which is the possibility that your home will
become a sort of spiritual rest stop for all sorts of astral and
otherworldly creatures from ghosts to dragons. They have a tendency
to enjoy the same type of feel and energy as we do. Some of them miss
it and some of them even feed off of it. It can be frustrating at
times but it can also be a blessing in disguise. Just like the
picture on the wall.

Allies and Enemies

"But for me I will abide here, setting within the fold of Olympus, where I will gladden my heart with gazing; but go ye forth that ye come among the Trojans and the Achaians and succoure these or those, howsoever each of you have in mind." (Zeus - The Iliad, Book XX-369)

All of the Gods from any land, and no land, have both a love and envy of the mortal soul. The world of men is the great game. For men, unlike any other are driven to succeed. Driven by passion and rage, by the unknown, but more importantly by themselves.

For their love, a price was paid. For in loving mortals the Gods adopted and mimicked many of mankind's attributes. Not all of which were kind. Envy, jealousy, obsessive love, and rage. In all of their might and magic the Gods themselves would turn on and to each other, day in and day out, in a never ending battle over what was best for the world below but also in smaller, more personal, matters.

In the past men were judged by their deeds. The greater the deed the greater the blessing bestowed upon them. Some where even able to obtain the mortal equivalent of immortality in that their names would forever be remembered, their deeds never forgotten. But no more so than the unforgotten deeds of the Gods who lead them to glory.

Some of the Gods and Goddesses had their favorites among mortals and they readily acted against each other in their efforts to ensure a good fate for those they watched so closely and loved. A blessing from one would bring a curse from the other. And it was the mortals who were forced to stand alone in the dust. Blinded by the love and hate of the Gods as they dueled over what would be. Even mighty Zeus would act in secret to keep white armed Hera ignorant to his own deeds. Not that he had fear of the immortal goddess but simply for the fact that he often grew weary of being forced to listen to her constant complaints. Another attribute unbecoming of a Goddess but practiced relentlessly none the less.

The Gods also adopted the plight of favoritism and vanity. They held great contests amongst themselves over things such as physical beauty, musical talent, and even who among them could drink the most wine. That honeyed potion nectar of Dionysus that could gift both wisdom and madness to God and mortal alike. A test that the God of Wine enjoyed seeing played out in any case.

Even ego plagued the Gods. They failed to fully yield to the symbiotic nature of their relationship with mortals. Their wars with each other were on such an epic scale that all things mortal seemed insignificant at times. The gods granted many things to the world of men and in return for those gifts mankind loved, honored, and worshipped them. In doing so it was man who opened the gateways between the divine realms and the mortal world. The more worshipers a God or Goddess had the more influence they had in the mortal realm. And without mankind as a grounding rod their influences would often go unnoticed or fail to manifest at all. To make things worse, the loss of worshipers and the flow of love from the mortal realm struck the old gods like a plague. They grew weaker in influence and power, less focused on a world less focused on them, and some of them would loose all musing to aid mankind at all. For mankind was no longer aiding them. The strings were cut. The pieces on the board no longer moved at the gentle nudges of the Gods. Now, it took something more.

It was only the God of War who still had a hold on the heart of man. For it is in mankind's nature to destroy. And all throughout time wherever and for whatever mankind was led into battle they did so under the watchful eye of the God of war. Though even the new generations of pagans have often denied the nature of this deity, he cared not. His nature was undeniable and seen the world over. Beyond all text, teaching, or philosophy, the gift and art of war has forever been the most honored among men. And this again was a trait reflected above.

"So urged the blessed gods both host to battle, then themselves burst into fierce war" (370)

So it is with the Gods, both kind and cruel, wise and foolish in the designs and plots against and for man and each other. Not so unlike the mortals they move to govern to some still unforeseen end. Unforeseen because like mortals they have little control over the fate of the free willed. And thus, so willed, that there have been times when even a mere mortal has dared to defy a God…and the God was defeated.

A blessing from one, a curse from another. But curses break. Deeds are forever. It was a man, not a God, that did the deed. And the man was favored many times over thereby.

Angel Snowden - 2011